A Series of Odd Engagements
by UniversalWhippingBoy
Summary: In which Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect are in a series of predicaments that would not possibly happen on Earth even if they had an improbablity warp -which they dont-. My very first G2G fic.
1. Arthur's Regression Part I

A/N: First GTG fic... don't know the characters very well yet, so they're probably OOC  
  
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Arthur's Regression  
  
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Of all things in the Galaxy - things big, small and somewhere in relativeness to the middle - nothing could have prepared Ford Prefect for what Arthur Dent had said.  
  
They were supposed to be friends. Friends were people who did not hate each other - otherwise they would not be very good friends. Friends, like Arthur for example, did not tell other friends, like Ford for example, that they hate them.  
  
The words were still there, screaming in Ford's head. Words said uncharacteristicly by Arthur.  
  
"I hate you."  
  
Said with such heavy malice, Ford recalled why Arthur would say such a thing to a friend. Okay, so maybe it was Ford's fault that they had ended up hitchhiking onto a relatively bad ship that had a relatively bad captain. They had escaped, easily, onto another ship - one more welcome to them - but Ford remembered Arthur's words all too well.  
  
No apology was said, no clue of an otherwise pleasant demenour from Arthur as the man had taken his leave to search for something to eat. Ford stayed behind, moving himself to a seat in the only place in which he could find solitude.  
  
Ford, sitting upon an down-turned crate in a storage closet, clenched his face in his hands as he tried to think of what to say to Arthur in apology.  
  
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Arthur Dent had, in fact, found something that resembled Earth food. Questionable as it was being of a glowing purple state in the shape of a banana with a thick array of tiny furs on the top end. Arthur held it at an arms length trying to decide whether or not to ask Ford if it was safe to eat. One never did know for certain.  
  
"Where is Ford anyhow?" Arthur thought outloud. "I wonder if he thinks I'm still sour at him from before...? Although it was his fault and..."  
  
Arthur continued on at that thought and, as he walked on, he got angrier and angrier. And all this anger unfortunately found itself directed at Ford.  
  
By the time that Arthur found Ford in the storage closet, he was too busy yelling at Ford to notice the down-trodden depressed look on the face of the other man.  
  
When Arthur halted his tirade and actually looked at Ford's face, he immedaitely regretted his words.  
  
"I'm sorry," Ford said quietly. He lifted his eyes slowly, sorrowfully, and then jumped up in horror. "ARTHUR! NO!"  
  
Ford snatched the furry purple banana away from the unexpected hands of Arthur Dent.  
  
"Have you any idea," Ford asked in a fit of rage, "How dangerous these are!? The furry part is poisoness. If you touch the furry part, I would have all of 5 minutes to get you to a doctor so you do not die!"  
  
"Ford..." Arthur muttered, he streched a hand out and pointed to the dangerous purple thing.  
  
"Arthur, wha--" Ford fell forward then, his face slumping down against Arthur's chest as Arthur clapsed his hands to keep Ford from hitting the floor.  
  
"Ford?" Aruthur said, easing the man to a lay down position on the floor. "There you are, sit up now..." Ford didn't move. "I say Ford, you are looking rather..."  
  
To not say the words, as Arthur wished he rather thought them. Dying. Ford looked almost dead.  
  
His face had paled quite quickly and his lips were blue. Ford's hands, as Arthur noted, were a glowing purple on the palms and had several of the bits of fur protruding from them.  
  
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To Be Con't  
  
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	2. Arthur's Regression Part II

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Arthur's Regression  
  
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There was not much that Arthur Dent could say about the doctor. Dr. Higgen P. Snickerbottom was a more pleasant man than the Vogons - being one of the most unpleasant races in the galaxy - but that is all Arthur Dent could say.  
  
There was only four minutes left of the time limit of Ford Prefect by the time Arthur Dent found Higgen Snickerbottom. The weasily old doctor was bending over a plant at the time, studying it so it seemed, when Arthur entered the room.  
  
"A doctor!" Arthur Dent cried, "I need a doctor!"  
  
Higgen Snickerbottom stood on his haunches and surveyed the Englishman from slipper to housecoat to the dark disheveled hair upon Arthur Dent's cranium.  
  
"I am a doctor," Snickerbottom proclaimed, "Now, quit running around like a madman and state your problem or get out of my sight!"  
  
"My friend," Arthur proclaimed right back into the face of Higgen Snickerbottom, "There is something very wrong with him, I'm not sure exactly. But he touched something that he told me not to touch and he said that once you touch it you'll only live for five minutes after and---"  
  
"What are you standing around yacking for man!?" snapped Snickerbottom, grabbing up his medical case and rushing out the door, "Where is he?! Where is your friend?!"  
  
If Higgen P. Snickerbottom had anytime to stop and think about it thoroughly, he would seriously considered who exactly would want to be friends with this uneducated apeman - that's how terribly unpleasant he is.  
  
"This way, to the storage closet just round the corner here..."  
  
"How long age did he touch it?"  
  
Arthur Dent glanced wirey at his watch.  
  
"Four minutes."  
  
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It was precisely 5 minutes and ten seconds later when Higgen P. Snickerbottom let Arthur see Ford Prefect.  
  
"He isn't awake," Snickerbottom pronounced snappily, "And you'll do good to make as much noise as you can."  
  
Bewildered, Arthur opened his mouth to ask why, but Snickerbottom beat him to it.  
  
"He hasn't awakened yet. If he doesn't awaken soon, then there is no chance of it."  
  
Higgen Snickerbottom took his self-righteous leave to return to the study of his plant and Arthur Dent moved into the storage closet to see Ford.  
  
"Hello," said Arthur Dent, feeling slighty - no, let's not lie to ourselves here - feeling a lot dumb at talking to somebody who obviously couldn't answer back. "So, uh... hello..."  
  
As the conversation didn't seem to pick up at all, Arthur seated himself on the down-turned crate that was conveiniantly beside the unconscious man and tried to discover how he could make it up to his friend.  
  
Arthur recalled telling Ford that he hated him.  
  
Now, that wasn't entirely true - Or true in even the slightest bit.  
  
Perhaps that was why Ford was so upset? Or all the yelling Arthur did today...  
  
Arthur Dent put his head in his hands and sat like that for a time, only raising his head in hope when he heard a slight scuffle from upon the floor.  
  
He was greeted - to his surprise - by a rather pale fist flying slower than usual into his face.  
  
Easily ducking it, he watched quietly as Ford Prefect sickly stumbled forward as if in a drunken haze.  
  
"FORD!" Arthur almost squealed, grabbing the fellow in a hug. He released him quicklier than necessary and settling the two of them down upon the floor.  
  
Ford peered at him through glazed blue eyes.  
  
"How do you feel?" Arthur Dent asked tentatively.  
  
"Like I was poisoned by a Mogoite Fruit," Ford replied brashly, "Oh wait, nevermind, I was."  
  
Arthur cringed. "I'm sorry," he muttered, "I didn't know and it reminded me of home! I thought it was a fuzzy purple banana!"  
  
Ford Prefect sighed. "Yes, well... It isn't. Obviously."  
  
A silence took place for a few minutes while they each fiddled with their fingers and various other semi-useful aparatices until Arthur Dent spoke up.  
  
"About yesturday," he said, "And uhm... and today as well. I'm sorry. I don't hate you... I was just mad..."  
  
"...Insane?"  
  
"Angry."  
  
"Ah... It's alright."  
  
They walked a bit, out of the storage and headed down the corridor towards the food area.  
  
Arthur sighed. "Are you angry with me?"  
  
"Yes. A bit," came the honest answer.  
  
Arthur was silent for a moment and then spoke hesitantly. "Do you... uh... hate me?"  
  
Ford Prefect stopped short and grabbed Arthur Dent by the lapels of his housecoat.  
  
"No," Ford said with meaning, "I don't hate you. I will never hate you no matter how ignorant and annoying you may be." He released Arthur and then continued down the hallway a few steps.  
  
"I don't hate you Arthur Dent," he said without facing his companion, "I just don't like you much right now." 


	3. The Quest for the Towel Part I

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Quest for Towel  
  
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They were on Delta Canis Majoris when they discovered it. It was in the window of one of those small private-owned shops for all the universe to see and when the universe - or at least the personal universe of Ford Prefect - laid eyes on it, it stopped so quickly that Arthur Dent had bumped into Ford from behind.  
  
"Ford?" Arthur inquisited, waving his hand in front of Ford Prefect's stunned expression, "I say, Ford, what is the matter?"  
  
Ford shook his head slowly and resisted the urge to press his nose to the glass. "Do you see it?" he asked in awe, "It's marvelous... simply..."  
  
Arthur gazed through the window and raised an eyebrow or two, "Simply... a towel."  
  
The towel hanging in the window was large, black and had a picture of a strange round green thing sticking it's tongue out at them.  
  
"It's beautiful..." said Ford, "It's marvelous... it's---"  
  
"A towel."  
  
"The most wonderful towel that I've ever seen!" Ford harumphed at Arthur's lack of enthusiasm. "I'm going to buy it."  
  
Arthur Dent wondered how exactly his friend was supposed to afford to buy the towel, and was truely astounded when Ford presented his alcohol fund and disappeared into the store.  
  
'This towel,' thought Arthur in surprise, 'Must be really very special to him...'  
  
Ford exited the shop, towel pressed up against the bottom of his face. His cerleun eyes dreamily sparkling.  
  
"Smell this!" he said. "Feel this!" Ford thrust the towel into Arthur's hands and the Englishman did so. "Like honey," Ford lamented, "Smells like honey, feels like the fur of a Mogoite fruit tree!"  
  
It was softer than anything that Arthur had ever felt before and it did, indeed smell like honey.  
  
"Isn't it just so---"  
  
Ford was interrupted by a loud humming noise. But not just any loud humming noise, but a loud humming noise that came from the area just above and behind them. The loud humming noise of a hovering-scooter-type-thing with an annoying looking man sitting upon it.  
  
"Hello Ix!" the man screeched. He snapped the towel out of Arthur's hands and sped off.  
  
"Hey wait!" Ford yelled. Enraged, he grabbed Arthur by the wrist and the two following the stolen towel, "Give that back!"  
  
They ended up at the docking area and Ford cursed a word in Betelguese that I dare not repeat here while the strange man zipped into a ship and the hatch was closed.  
  
Immeadiately, Ford pulled out his electronic thumb and grasped Arthur's hand.  
  
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"What is Ix?" Arthur asked Ford as the two stood, terribly disheveled, to their feet in what appeared to be the storage bay of the man's ship.  
  
"What they called me at school back home on Betleguese," Ford muttered, distastfully spitting the words out like a moldy Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. "Think nothing of it."  
  
"Who was that man?"  
  
"His name," said Ford with a resolute sigh, "is Glod Scroggleputt. In my school, he was the type of fellow who used to go around stealing people's lunch money and putting people - particularily me - into garbage cans. He was a teaser."  
  
Arthur opened his mouth to reply to that bit of history, but Ford gave him a just-shut-up-I'm-not-talking-anymore look.  
  
It also could have been a plea for a Pan Galagtic Gargle Blaster, Arthur wasn't sure.  
  
Knowing Ford, it was probably both.  
  
Arthur blinked, but then shrugged and followed Ford quietly out into the hallway.  
  
Almost immeadiately, they were met by the wrong end of a pertubingly shiney, gold-colored Kill-O-Zap gun.  
  
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	4. The Quest for the Towel Part II

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The Quest for the Towel  
  
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"This way," the guard ordered.  
  
"Where are we going?" asked Ford Prefect, holding down all urges to try to struggle away from the guard that was holding him.  
  
The guard struck Ford across the face with the butt of the Zap gun and Ford careened into the wall.  
  
"This way."  
  
The guards - there were two of them one for Ford and the other for Arthur Dent - brought them into a room that was larger than a cupcake. In fact, the room was so ridiculously large that you probably fit one trabillion cupcakes within it. In the middle of the ridiculously large room was a throne made entirely of sandpaper, blue putty, bubble wrap and other useless things. Sitting in the throne of useless things, was none other that Glod Scroggleputt. Glod's face held a smug grin - which was as well ridiculously strange because most things would be afriad to come near Glod's face in the first place.  
  
"Ix," Glod drawled, "How nice to see you again."  
  
"Cut the pleasantries, you unhip lawnmower," Ford snapped, "What did you do with my towel?"  
  
"Oh," said Glod, pulling the towel out from the top of the Throne of Useless Things, "You mean this old thing?"  
  
Ford tried to barrage forward and grab it back, but the guard grabbed him by the arms just under his shoulders and lifted him off his feet.  
  
Glod smirked, pushing a large red button and watch as a piece of the floor in the ridiculously large room opened up and a garbage can rose up.  
  
"Ahh." Glod smiled as the guard packed Ford into the can, "The good old days, eh Ix?"  
  
Arthur Dent could have sworn he heard a growl come from the Betelguesean as he walked over and helped Ford out of it.  
  
"I say!" Arthur snapped, "That was rather uncalled for."  
  
Ford just frowned as the two guards trained Kill-o-Zap guns on them.  
  
"Well, you have me," Ford muttered, "...and you have my towel. What will you be doing with us then?"  
  
"Absolutely nothing."  
  
Ford was almost shocked. "Pardon?!"  
  
"This towel," Glod spat the word out indignantly, "Was supposed to be black. But it's not! It's in fact dark blue."  
  
"I don't see---" Arthur started, but was silenced by a kick from Ford.  
  
"I only stole it because I wanted a towel to match with my newest ship, which is in fact quite black," Glod explained in a huff. "But the towel is dark blue, so I have no need for the ship or the towel. Take your towel and depart."  
  
Glod heaved the towel to Ford Prefect, who looked at it for a while in his hands.  
  
"How are we going to leave?" Ford asked.  
  
"Take my new ship. It doesn't match so I don't want it!" Glod slumped down into the Throne of Useless Things and sulked.  
  
"A ship, Ford!" Arthur exclaimed as they observed it's sleek blackness, "A ship of your very own!"  
  
Ford nodded. "I think I'll name it after Glod Scroggleputt..."  
  
"A ship named Glod Scroggleputt?!" Arthur asked incrediously, "That absolutely ineffable!"  
  
"No..." Ford gave off a mischieveous grin as his eyes sparkled. "I'm naming it -The Frost-." 


	5. Frighteningly Improbable Possibilities P...

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Frighteningly Improbable Possibilities  
  
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"Hey Ford?" Arthur Dent asked from the helm of -The Frost-, "Why did you call the ship -The Frost-? I don't see how---"  
  
"How it coincides with Glod Scoggleputt?" Ford finished. "I was just waiting for you to ask... I knew you were going to."  
  
Arthur frowned, "Well, if you knew that I was going to ask then why didn't you just tell me instead of waiting for me to ask? Why not spare me the embarrasment?" Ford grinned one of his scarey grins. "Well, I have now asked, even though you knew I was going to, so now are you going to give me an answer?"  
  
Ford sighed. "I suppose you won't stop bugging me about it until I've told you. It's all rather simple really - you'll hate yourself after I've told you."  
  
"No I won't."  
  
"Sure you will!" Ford grinned. "Frost... Cold... It's after his personality."  
  
Arthur blinked and a frown set on his face.  
  
"Hate yourself yet?" Ford asked with a grin.  
  
Arthur shot him a look. "Shaddup," he said and pouted.  
  
Ford started to say something, but a red light from somewhere that doesn't matter started flashing on and off. In this moment, when Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect were explicitly unprepared for it, they both lost consciousness.  
  
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The precise second that Ford Prefect opened his eyes, his ears were assaulted by the sound of somebody singing.  
  
"Do rap, do rap, duh duh duh!"  
  
Ford groaned - more in annoyance than pain - and the singing stopped.  
  
"Hey my man!" Zaphod cried, "How's ya hangin'?"  
  
"I'm fine," Ford muttered, "What happened?"  
  
"He was going to commandeer our ship!" Arthur said sternly, entering the room. "He saw -The Frost- and was going to steal it!"  
  
"Yer ship blew a fuse or something," Zaphod said. "It was all wrecked up and looked like a worthless piece of." He paused then, suddenly realizing something. "Where did you get the ship? Did you steal it?"  
  
"No," Ford snapped, standing from the chair he had been passed out on, "It was given to me."  
  
"Oh, well cool then." Zaphod twirled a lock of his hair around his index finger. "So, uh, while you're here anyways... could you scoot down and fix the improbability drive?"  
  
Ford cast Zaphod a look, but it was wasted on thin air, so he just harumphed to hide his sigh.  
  
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"Are you almost complete?" Arthur Dent asked Ford - who was bending backwards underneath of a panel.  
  
"Yes," Ford Prefect muttered. He leaned a little farther in and reached out to move a wire. "Almost..."  
  
There was a flash of lights and a flicker of two screams melded within one another as a jolt of electricity shot through Ford and Arthur.  
  
Ford and Arthur were thrown to the floor some ten metres away from each other.  
  
"Okay..." Ford Prefect said slowly, his voice higher than he remembered, "What was that?" He looked up to see Arthur staring at him.  
  
Arthur Dent had his eyebrows lowered on his head and the look of a lion who had just found his prey. His hand raised up and pointed to Ford's chest.  
  
"My, my, my, Ford," Arthur said, slowly putting on a small seductive smile, "You look... stunning..."  
  
Ford, more stunned than stunning, looked down at his chest. His eyes grew wide, his mouth gaped open and his scream refused to come. Pulling himself to his feet, he dashed to the nearest full length mirror.  
  
And the, and only then, his mouth, mind and every molecule in his body, let him scream.  
  
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A/N: Dun dun dunnnnn... What do you think happened to him? 


End file.
